


Even Beautiful Things Must Die

by your_taxidermy



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Geralt of Rivia - Freeform, Skyrim Easter Egg!, The Witcher - Freeform, uhh i hope this is good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 16:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11294709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_taxidermy/pseuds/your_taxidermy
Summary: Geralt didn't expect to find a contract in the inn - let alone from the bar maiden.





	Even Beautiful Things Must Die

**Author's Note:**

> My first Witcher fic! <3 I hope ya'll enjoy and please let me know how I can improve! Comments are VERY appreciated

Witcher - monster among... monsters?

Geralt sat in the warmed tavern, shielded from the land's harsh wind. The strong scent of rotten breath, blood, and ale billowed around the room - probably slapping new comers in the face. There were drunks in the corner, muttering to themselves, women slowly dancing, hoping they'd get a coin or two. Beef roasts were being flayed over the fire, grease fuelling the flames. Laughter from Gwent could be heard upstairs, a mixture of rage and joy. Geralt became fond of Gwent, though he found himself fighting a losing battle when he challenged Triss. Damn that sorceress... sometimes it felt like she used her magic to have cards be in her favor. But the Gods were always on her side. Winter was slowly approaching, the crops began to die, the sick become sicker, but Geralt... it didn't phase his conditioned body. The Witcher exhaled, scratching his beard. He'd been low on work these days - seemed like everyone was out of coin. He grew bored and resorted to sharpening his skills in the deepest of forests, hunting hag ravens and sirens. Being a master monster slayer didn't get boring - there was always enough monsters but now... never enough coin. Geralt finished his pint, licking the foam from his chapped lips. His eyes followed the tavern girls, not feeling any interest in them, of course. "May I offer you another, Master Witcher?" Asked a girl, walking over to his table with a jug of ale in her hands. She looked at his medallion, thinking of her adopted grandfather, who became a Witcher many moons ago.

 

He nodded, pushing his drink closer to her. "Yeah... thank you." He replied softly, his golden cat eyes shooting up at her. They felt like needles ripping through her skin, he meant no harm, but his presence was too powerful. The bar maiden became nervous, her heartbeat speeding up. It went even faster when she realized he could probably hear it. Her hands clenched the wooden handle, the warm liquid filled his mug, foam building at the top.

The Witcher could hear her heart beat along with her blood flowing. "Why so nervous? I can hear your heartbeat." Geralt asked, his brow lifting into a perfect arch. He listened to her heartbeat, his cat eyes examining the room. She stammered for a moment, trying to ignore Geralt's intense gaze.  
  
“See, Master Witcher, I've been trying to find someone like you. Unfortunately, my father forbids it. His hatred for Witchers runs deeper than the deepest of all oceans. But, I need your service. Think ya can meet me by the well at midnight?” The girl whispered, making sure uninvited ears didn't catch her. “Mhm. See you then. Take care now.” The Witcher replied, thinking of the new job at hand. The maiden walked off, serving the others. Geralt finished his beverage, pushing the tankard to the middle of the table. He straightened his armor and made his way out of the crowded tavern, minding the passed out drunks. Geralt was welcomed with a freezing wind, chilling him to the bone. He was used to such temperatures but that certainly didn't mean he enjoyed doing it. He walked over to the stable, scratching the face’s of other horses until Roach whinnied loudly, pawing at the ground. Geralt smiled at his mare, pulling an apple from her saddle bag, breaking it in half with his thumbs in a matter of seconds. The mare heard the pleasant crack of the apple splitting in half, her eyes lighting up. The Witcher handed the mare half the apple, saving the other have for himself. He bit a chunk out, spitting out the seeds as he found them. By the time he was finished, he tightened his girth, making sure the saddle was pulled up on her withers. “Good girl, Roach.” Geralt softly muttered, patting the mare’s muscled neck.  
  
He led her out of the stall, letting her get a bite of hay and a long drink before they set out on their travels. Geralt pulled himself up on her, rubbing her neck for a few seconds before walking along the dirt road. He trotted under the night sky, using the bright light of the moon and stars as his guide - even though Witchers had excellent eyesight, having help was always pleasant. He scanned the area, hearing Nekkers roam in the woods even with their light footsteps. He road pasts the dead fields, remembering the vibrant flowers that grew. Ciri loved them when they grew, Geralt got into the habit of picking them when she wasn't on the run from the Wild Hunt. Unfortunately, there were no flowers to be picked. Lilacs grew in large bushes, Yen never picked them, surprisingly enough. As much as she loved them, she knew they would die, thus losing their beauty. That didn't stop Geralt from picking them for her, of course. She looked gorgeous with them in her hair, just the very thought of it warmed Geralt’s body. Ciri could never resist to leave them be, wanting to create flower crowns with Triss, forcing Geralt to wear them, insisting he'd look pretty, which wasn't exactly a lie. The Witcher was warmed by the thoughts, he couldn't wait to see his family again. He smiled faintly, watching the little animals run about the empty field.  
  
He made it to the well, just like he was asked. The birds were startled by his presence, causing them to flap their small wings in a hurry. “Easy, Roach.” Geralt commanded, the mare obeying his order. He jumped off of her, landing on the dead patch of grass. Geralt allowed Roach to rest, giving her another snack just for the hell of it.  
He walked over to the well, lowering himself to the ground. He took a handful of stones and made a small circle for a fire before he meditated. Geralt gathered a small pile of sticks, forming a pile in the circle. With one swift motion, a decent fire started to burn. He warmed his gloved hands, the leather slowly heating up. The Witcher scanned his surroundings one last time before beginning his meditation.  
  
_Hours later…._

* * *

* * *

  
  
Geralt heard the woman's footsteps getting closer to him. “I'm sorry to interrupt… should I wait?” She whispered, stopping in her tracks. She had a bear skinned pelt snuggly wrapped around her shoulders.  
  
“No.” Geralt replied, each word was coated in a thick layer of ice - his monotone never being broken. “Tell me about this contract.” He stood up, tightening the leather strap on his breastplate. “Master, I know no details but I can give you my best answers; my papa - he has been having horrible nightmares every night. He wakes up looking like he’s gone for a swim. His flesh is ice cold but the bed is soaked in sweat and drool. Sometimes he’s got wounds on his body.” The girl sighed, pulling the bear pelt closer to her. Geralt nodded. “I see. When did this start? Has your father done anything out of the ordinary?” The Witcher asked, thinking to his bestiary.  
  
She thought to herself. “If it helps, my papa recently met a lovely lass but, aye…” she paused.  
“She is a wild one - my papa is infatuated with her.” Geralt walked closer to her, his cat eyes ripping into her soul. “Tell me more about this woman - her name - physical description.” Geralt quizzed, perhaps looking more intimidating than expected. “She’s tall… a real tall lass, maybe about five foot eight, she’s got nightly curls and wears all black.” The description sounded all too familiar. No, it wasn’t Yen, but it did make him think of her. “One night, I saw her sittin’ on his chest while he slept, but by the Gods, her face. I swear she had the teeth of a wild mutt and eyes like a demon. I knew it wasn’t no dream, Master!”  
  
The wolf had it figured out; A Night Hag. Damned those bloody demons - plaguing innocent men with nightmares that could make a warrior weep.  
  
“A Night Hag is haunting your father, it will cost you a decent sum, I don’t work for free.” Geralt reminded. The girl sighed, reaching into her pockets, her thin fingers searching for the bag of coin she collected over the months. She knew a supernatural being was behind this. Saving gold was the only way to help her father. “Two-hundred and twenty gold! Is that good, Master?” She asked, her eyes pleading. Geralt took the leather sack and slipped it into his pocket. “Yes, thank you. I’ll see your problem then. Where is your home?” He asked, walking over to his steed, tightening her girth. “Master, if you don’t mind, I can take you. I know you can handle a dark and perhaps dangerous path but I wouldn’t mind the company of a Witcher.” she was unarmed - it’d be ironic to be killed by a monster moments after hiring a Witcher.  
  
Geralt nodded, having a bit of company never hurt anyone. “Gladly. Thank you, take my hand.” He replied as he mounted Roach, extending his hand to the woman. She grasped his leather gloved hand, her scarred fingers gripping the material. Roach adjusted to the extra weight. “Thank you, Master. If only I had extra coin to pay you.” The woman sighed, resting her hands on Geralt’s armored shoulders, her wrists inches away from his deadly crafted blades. The two walked the path leading into town, her words guiding the Master.  
  
The stars above them were their only company, the moon glimmered upon the earth, Nekkers and wild creatures roaming the empty meadows around them. He heard the harsh breathing of bears a mile away, the howls of wolves, and the soft breathing of his horse beneath him. Roach chewed the bit, enjoying the metal taste. The woman behind him admired the view, her human eyes could only see so much in the dark. Thankfully the moon was their company, highlighting the path. It was like something out of a fairytale - little animals curling up in their dens, away from harm’s reach, a little boy playing in the skies, perhaps fishing for clouds. Oh, the books she’d read about such things. “Aye, Master Witcher, what can you tell me about Night Hags?”  
  
“Night Hags are demon spirits, similar to Succubi, who cause nightmares. They sit upon your chest and toy with your dreams while you sleep. Many don’t know until it’s too late.”  
  
“Too late?”  
  
“Until the dreams become so horrifying the dreamer ends up dying in their sleep or the Night Hag kills them.” Good lord, Geralt was so damn blunt. She blinked.  
  
“Aye… I see.” She went quiet and as did Geralt. They reached her home, a small herd of sheep rested in the pen outside her home. The two got off Roach, quiet not to make too much sound. “Master, allow me to go in and ease my father to bed. I’ll signal you to come in.” She whispered, her eyes glued to him.  
  
“Understood.”  
  
The girl stepped into the house, seeing her father half asleep by the fire. “Papa, come to bed.”She cooed, softly pulling his hand. “Beth… Bethany. Where’ve you been, girl?” He asked, sitting up in the wooden chair. “Working, Papa. Come to bed.” He complied, dropping the bottle of vodka. He stumbled up the stairs and crashed into his bed. He was knocked out in a few seconds. She tip-toed downstairs to get Geralt.  
  
“Come now!”  
  
Within seconds, Geralt was in the home, making his way upstairs. It was dead quiet, he knew something was amiss.  
He began to meditate in the corner of the room, waiting quietly. The dreamer began to mumble in his sleep, Geralt could easily make out the words.  
  
_“I lay me here to sleep;_  
_No nightmare shall plague me,_  
_Until they swim all the waters_  
_That flow upon the earth,_  
_And count all the stars.”_  
  
_‘A chant to keep night terrors at bay…’_ Geralt thought to himself.  
  
He sensed evil in the air but he waited to strike until the Night Hag showed herself.  
A dark cloud appeared by the bed, a woman in black stepped from the darkness, a long black skirt covering her lower half. She was beautiful, like a woman from a dream, yet she caused so much terror just by resting on a man’s chest. The Hag climbed on his chest, her true form paving its way into the real world. Her teeth grew into thick fangs, reaching her upper chest, her nails grew to the size of large tails. They dug into his chest, ripping the skin. Geralt stood up, pulling out his sword. She turned her head to see him, her features reversed. She knew exactly who she was dealing with just by his scent. **“Witcher!** A pleasant surprise indeed.” She cooed, running her talons over her face. “What brings you here, my pretty little wolf? Don’t I look familiar?” she asked, her violet stained lips curling into a smile. Geralt growled.  
  
**_“Don’t I look just like your Lady Yen?”_** She asked, hoping the illusion would throw him off. “What are you talking about? Either leave or I take your life. Choose wisely.” He growled once more, his eyes growing dark. “But it isn’t so simple, little wolf! I’ve yet to reach my fill. Come, let _Yen_ dance on the slopes and curves of your mind, Geralt of Rivia!” She toyed with him. This illusion didn’t phase the Witcher, but it did make things slightly more difficult. “You are not Lady Yennefer, Night Hag.” Geralt swung his sword at the demon, ripping through her skirt. The frayed edged twirled in the soft wind coming from her portal. “You can only best a Witcher if you don’t fight him.” She cooed, the Yennefer clone smiled, stepping from the dreamer’s body. “Listen and you will learn, Geralt.” Her voice… so soft. “Little wolf, _why must you kill beautiful things?_ ” she asked, resting her finger on her lips.  
  
A blood-curdling scream filled the room, for the dreamer was thrashing back and forth, trying to wake from his dream. Geralt grew tired of her games and casted Yrden, a bright purple ring forming around the she-demon. He used the moment to rip her bare flesh with his deadly sharp blade. “I have no time to talk, Night Hag.” He howled, seeing as her body became stained with her own blood. “Witcher-!”

* * *

* * *

  
  
Her final cries escaped her mouth with bitten lips and empty eyes. Her true form shined though - a hideously designed demon with massive fangs and a viper tongue. Bethany rushed up stairs to see the scene - a dead Night Hag in the middle of the floor with a bloodied Witcher standing beside it. He began to slice her head, exposing her black flesh as it ripped under his carving knife. He lifted her head up by her ebony locks, showing it to the girl. “I…” she was speechless. Such wicked work happened right before her eyes.  
  
“What the hell is going on?! Who are you?!” The dreamer awoke, seeing his wounds. “A Witcher. Solved your nightmare problem - A Night Hag was causing you the trouble. Thank your daughter. It should trouble you no more.”  
  
The man sighed, looking at the brutal image before him. “Safe travels, farewell.”  
With that, Geralt left the home, the morning sun greeting him. He petted Roach, rubbing her neck before saddling up. “Master! Wait!” Bethany called, running outside with a basket of goods. “Thank you so much, Master. Please take this, I wish I could give more but alas, times’re hard.” Geralt declined.  
“I can’t. I already have my pay, keep your food.”  
“This ain’t pay, Witcher. A gift for your troubles. You need it more than us, trust me.” Geralt smiled.  
“Thank you, Bethany. Safe travels.”  
  
She watched the slayer ride off into the morning sun, Roach’s tail swaying back and forth. She’d never forget the sight - the most well known Witcher in all the land, riding away from her home, a demon head tied to his steed. She only wondered what happened in the room before hand, she only heard faint voices and the clash of sword and bone. Part of her wished she could erase the thought- the other half wishing she could witness the man’s skill. She watched until he was out of sight, hoping she’d see his face again. “Farewell, Master Witcher. May the Gods watch over your battles, friend.”


End file.
